Waltzing with Old Shadows | Catherine Viel

By Catherine Viel, November 1, 2021

(Golden Age of Gaia)

October 31, 2021

I went by the Druid stone…
And I stopped and looked at the shifting shadows…
And they shaped in my imagining
To the shade that a well-known head and shoulders
Threw there when she was gardening.
~Thomas Hardy, The Shadow on the Stone



The most innocuous things can trigger an existential crisis.

Well, maybe that’s an exaggeration. But at dawn on a foggy Halloween, it feels like the bottomless pit of despair has just opened up and I’m scrambling backward to keep from falling in.

This is going to sound so silly I hesitate to share it, but as is often the case, beneath the triviality lurks a revealing self-awareness nugget.

My insurmountable problem can be summed up as, the rain came, and now come the weeds.

As soon as I see those tiny seedlings spring up with their yellow-green freshness against the rich black earth, my heart plummets.

Oh no! Something I have to take care of. I am already overburdened, I can’t take on one more thing!

This is what I tend to ironically call a first-world problem. Because by comparison…I got nothing to complain about.

But since it’s my life and my reality, squawk about it I shall.

*****



Why should a few weeds (okay, thousands of weeds) throw me into despair?

When I hit the pause button on my self-pitying inner dialogue, a glimmer of clarity seeps in.

Oh…it’s because, as usual, there’s nobody to help. It’s all up to you.

Now, if I hadn’t had many readings with Dr. Peebles that included this very topic, I wouldn’t explore this any further.

But because my eyes have opened up a bit, I realize it’s not “there’s nobody to help.” It’s “I don’t choose to ask for help.”

Not all the time; I know my limits and when a task is clearly beyond them. I’ll pick up the phone when the ten-foot hedge needs trimming, or we want to install a flagstone walkway.

But I can certainly fill a two-gallon sprayer tank with vinegar and salt and drench the sweet alyssum that’s inconveniently seeded itself atop the decomposed granite pathway.

That’s such a simple chore I don’t even want to ask the gardeners to do it. I feel as if they’d roll their eyes and wonder why I don’t do such an easy task myself.

The approbation of our gardeners is apparently more important than requesting help.

*****



Dr. Peebles, in my first reading in 2018, suggested:

Allow yourself to receive, my dear. [The more that you’re receiving,] it allows for you to be in the energetic essence of what it looks like to receive.

And this is important for you (and for all) because the world is not in need of better givers. The world is in need of better receivers. When individuals learn to receive beautifully, not only from others but from themselves and also from the Universal Oneness, then there inevitably is less need.

And he suggests that I be open to receive even that which I don’t “need”:

When a dear friend is coming over for dinner, and they ask, “What can I bring?” Even if you have everything, can you ask them, “Yes, wonderful! Could you bring a baguette or a wonderful bouquet of flowers?”

*****



So here I am, waltzing once more with this old shadow of Not Able (willing) to Receive.

What do I do about it? “Say two Hail Mary’s and call me in the morning” popped irreverently into my head.

Or maybe it’s not so irreverent. What is the Hail Mary but a much-loved prayer? And “Call me in the morning” means, to me, sleep on it, and see what your subconscious offers up overnight.

I’m reminded of another Dr. Peebles suggestion: if you “must” do something, then allow the Universal Oneness to do the task through you.

I accept that suggestion gladly. I don’t mind tackling drudgery alongside the ever-abundant energy of the highest universal consciousness, allowing it to flow to and through me.

Okay, Universal Oneness, let’s get out there and fill up the sprayer. Oh, and could you run to the store and pick up some more vinegar first?

Thanks so much, I knew I could count on you.



Dr. Peebles through Natalie Gianelli, NatalieGianelli.com.